


Loves of My Life

by thebrotherswholoved



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Baby Winchester - Freeform, Curtain Fic, Dadchesters, Implied Mpreg, Inspired by Fanart, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Oneshot, Parent Dean Winchester, Parent Sam Winchester, Post Mpreg, Wincest - Freeform, domestic AU, fanart prompt, really short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2020-06-27 03:35:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19782412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebrotherswholoved/pseuds/thebrotherswholoved
Summary: Inspired by Tumblr user @samisabottom’s work linked below. Just a short glimpse into the life of Sam, Dean, and little Eloise :)





	Loves of My Life

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired completely by Tumblr user [@samisabottom’s](https://samisabottom.tumblr.com/) work which can be found [here](https://samisabottom.tumblr.com/post/186207489388/if-your-still-taking-requests-could-u-please-draw).

Sam Winchester has never, not once thought of himself as anything but a monster.

Even though Dean used to call him a gentle giant when he was letting out the hem of his pant legs because he was rapidly approaching the apex of the adult growth curve, he couldn’t help but look in the mirror and expect to see horns growing from his forehead or eyes as black and evil as coal. He used to claim that nothing he could ever do would be anything but terrible and that nothing made by his own two hands would ever stay standing. Sam saw himself as a walking hurricane. 

Dean has never called him anything but good. After he did something really bad, worse than calling someone a dickhead or forgetting to do the extra credit problems on his math homework, Dean would look at him as he scrubbed the blood from his jeans and smile. _“You and I both know that you couldn’t have saved them,”_ he would say while sauntering over to hold his not-so-little brother in his arms, head on his lap. _“Even fallen angels have wings, Sammy.”_

There’s a flaw in his thinking, though, one that he only noticed three months ago: if nothing he did or made could be good...how could he and Dean have created someone so amazing and perfect?

From the moment he first held Eloise Mary’s small wrinkly body and cradled her head against the inside of his elbow, he could feel the purity and perfection of the tiny little being radiating off her and it overcame him, the emotion making hot tears well up in his eyes and lean into Dean’s chest. After seven hours of grueling labor, Sam’s shallow hyperventilation slowed and he was able to release Dean’s hand and focus on their daughter, whose cries dulled after a few moments of being placed on her father’s bare chest. Even Dean No-Chick-Flick-Moments Winchester’s cheeks were damp with tears. 

They brought her home to their small, suburb-esque home once both she and Sam were cleared to leave the god-forsaken hospital ward that smelt of hand sanitizer and breast milk. Sam was the one to carry her down the hallway to the room Dean spent months preparing just for her, stopping at nothing to make it absolutely perfect. The walls are painted a baby blue color with picture-perfect clouds layered over in eggshell white and Sam had even pitched in by painting a few purple and pink butterflies flapping their slightly-lopsided wings above her bassinet, which took Dean two months to perfect. Eloise’s crib was built from scratch so Dean could cover the wood in every sigil in every lore book he could find at Bobby’s house and Sam knew to look for Dean in the garage where he was surrounded by paint, markers, wood planks, and a dozen books most nights. Their baby girl will not fall victim to anything remotely supernatural if her fathers have anything to do about it.

Even though Eloise never lets them sleep for more than four hours at a time and is “a cute but colicky little bastard” according to Dean, Sam can never take his eyes off her and has to be dragged from the rocking chair his boyfriend built to their bed. Dean too is still infatuated with this little lady that took their lives by storm; he spends hours watching Food Network on the living room floor with her on the weekends while she’s in her swing or in his lap and is constantly attempting to get her to say “Dada” despite Sam telling him that she’ll start talking in or after three more months. 

Dean is leaning against the doorframe of the nursery with his eyes locked on the sight before him, eyes glistening with all the love in the world and then some. The love of his life is sitting on the floor with a bottle of formula in hand while Eloise tries to grab it from him as she drinks, small suckling sounds coming from the baby every few seconds. The duo is illuminated by the gentle glow of the Kansas moonlight and small moon-shaped nightlight plugged into the outlet by the door and while it allows him to see the two people who stole his heart, it also reminds him of just how gorgeous his brother is. After all, who else could Ellie have gotten her good looks from?

Sam happens to look to the side and jumps when he sees a shadowy figure leaning against the door, making their daughter whine at him. Dean chuckles into the hush engulfing the room and approaches Sam and the brown-haired baby, sitting on the floor across from him with a smile. 

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” he whispers while reaching out to brush the wispy hazelnut hair atop Eloise’s head. “You two just look so adorable. Should’a gotten my camera.”

The younger man laughs quietly and adjusts his hold on the bottle before looking up. “I’m sure she does. For some reason, she feeds easier when I sit on the floor, even though my wrist hurts like a bitch.”

“Jesus, Sammy: baby ears,” Dean jokes. The blond reaches out and grins. “Here, lemme help. You need a break, babe.”

Sam looks down at Ellie and back up at Dean, nodding softly while handing the bottle over to his boyfriend (much to their daughter’s protest) followed by the itty bitty baby herself. The doctor praised how Dean held Eloise in the hospital, saying he has a “natural paternal instinct”—Dean didn’t stop smiling after that, chest puffed out with pride. So it’s no surprise that Ellie resumes feeding almost immediately after they finish the handoff, eyes fluttering closed as she sucks the formula from her bottle. 

The brunet leans his head against Dean’s shoulder and smiles down at their baby girl in his arms. “I still can’t believe we made something so perfect.” 

“I know, me neither. We’re pretty fucked up, I guess the negatives just cancelled out,” he chortles. “You’re pretty damn awesome, but me? I guess she’s all you.”

“Nah, she’s got your eyes,” Sam replies, kissing his boyfriend’s cheek. “I think we did pretty good.”

Dean just looks at his boyfriend and his gorgeous features as the moonlight casts a spotlight on the man and back down at their baby daughter before nodding, a smile gracing his features. It’s true: their daughter is perfect and their life...it’s never been better. He never thought they’d get this far but god, he’s so fucking glad they stuck in there past the guts and gore of their past. 

“Hell yeah we did.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked my short thingie😂💕


End file.
